Death Come Not Quietly
by Danigirl32
Summary: A look through Dean's eyes after Sam makes a difficult decision.


Hey. This is a little something I came up with after that great werewolf episode. Hope you like.

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like writing about them

Feedback: greatly appreciated.

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**_...Death Come Not Quietly_**

That sound was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Now it's not like he was unfamiliar with gun shots, far from it. Dean Winchester had pulled the trigger more times than he could count. Death, well, it was the third passenger in his beloved Impala and was a cold bastard, but they were growing into close friends. If he took a few minutes, he could probably count all the demons he had killed over the years. The endless number of ways, shooting, stabbing, exorcism, laying to rest, hell, as long as they all had the same result: death.

Sometimes it was easy to pull the trigger, demon comes at him, it better have some major mojo up it's sleeve otherwise it was going to greet the business end of his sawed off and get a shit load of rock salt right up the ass. He would keep after it, no matter how many times he was knocked down, until he introduced that demon to his traveling companion.

Sometimes, it was damned difficult. Those were the ones that slipped into his nightmares occasionally. Those were the ones that made him question if he were become something just a shade close too the things he were killing. He could live with that if it accomplished the mission. He would live with it if it kept Sammy safe.

But that one gunshot, just one solitary bullet followed by a silence so thick it made him wish for any sound. Then, afterwards, he wished for that silence again.

If he could have spared Sam that pain, this knowledge, he would have. Hell, he tried to. Knew it would scrape away a piece of Sammy's soul to have to pull that trigger, but no, the dumb honorable ass wanted to do it himself.

Had to do it himself.

That's why in this business it paid to keep your heart and your gun seperate. If you had an itch that needed scratching, you sure as hell didn't allow personal feelings to get involved. Especially not with a woman on a case. You went out, found a piece, got laid and moved on.

He knew just by looking at those two that Sam was going to get hurt. That she was going to rip his heart out. Her. He refused to call her by name, because that gave her more power and damned if she didn't have enough power over his brother anyway. It sure as hell fooled them, her not turning and that's where he made his first mistake. Letting his guard down because he could see how much it meant to Sam.

Leaving them alone because he could practically smell the sex pouring off them.

Only to see the heartbreak in Sam's eyes afterwards.

What the fuck was he supposed to say to him? It's okay Sam, she's at peace now because she isn't a murdering werewolf that rips people apart and eats their hearts? Cold comfort man, cold comfort. It was your duty to shoot the woman you were falling hard for, because that's the job. Protect the innocent from the monsters, even if that monster made you feel almost normal just for a while?

Now they just rode along in silence, miles to the next town, the next hunt.

The next bullet.

Sam would heal, it would be a soft scab over a vicious wound, that would be ripped open everytime he pulled his gun. It would flicker in his head for a an instant, that last look in her eyes just before he pulled the trigger. For a long time, no matter what demon came at them, no matter how evil it was or how much it deserved to be put down, it would feel like killing her, all over again.

His brother would heal, and Sam and that bastard death would grow a little bit closer but he would do his damnedest to keep them mild aquaintances, pull that blackness closer to his heart. As long as it kept Sammy safe.

But that one would always be different. It would always be different.

Because it would always remind him that one day he just might be the one pulling the trigger. Standing in silence at the person that meant most to him, dead at his hands to protect the innocent from the monster his brother could become. Heart breaking as deep sobs poured from his soul, eyes focused on the lifegiving blood spilling beneath limp body before him.

And it would always make him wonder if he was as strong as Sammy.

If he could do it.


End file.
